


Sweet Strife

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Strife - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad's trying to bake and Bro is distracting him</p>
<p>(Ahahaha that sounds kinda sexual. There's not gonna be any smut, sorry?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Strife

**Author's Note:**

> Alright this is the least serious thing I've ever done and I'm sorry. I laughed super duper hard while writing this because I had literally no idea what I was doing and wow it's a stupid idea. 
> 
> Ahem. Grace, this debacle is for you. Much love <3

"Mr. Strider, I think it would be best if perhaps you were to remove yourself from my kitchen." Stirring from within the bowels of the refrigerator, Bro Strider waved a dismissive hand behind him as he pawed through the contents with the other.

"Nah, I'm good here. Hey, Egbert- where the fuck is your booze?"

"Please refrain from using such foul language when within my house. I'm afraid I do not have any alcohol, either." With a grumble, Bro pulled out of the fridge and rolled his shoulders as he kicked the door closed behind him.

Dad Egbert glanced dryly at him from across the room. His grip tightened on the wooden spoon in his hand as he readjusted the bowl in his arms, carrying the cake batter to the table in the center of the kitchen. Bro jammed his hands in his back pockets and kicked his feet out, whistling jauntily as he slid up behind him.

"Whatcha got there, pops?" Bro hooked one arm over the elder man's shoulder and fit his chin on the other. His gloved hand dove across Dad's chest and touched down in the batter, scooping up a finger of Betty Crocker Red Velvet Cake Mix and landing the digit on his outstretched tongue. 

"That is some grade A shit, dude."

Mr. Egbert tensed fractionally under his initial touch, but when the blond haired man's finger swiped a lick from his bowl, he could feel the wood of his spoon stressing under his grip. "Mr. Strider! I ask, yet again, that you kindly refrain from employing such unsavory vernacular! And keep your hands to yourself, as well. This cake is for John!" 

Bro laughed lightly in his ear and withdrew his arms, though he still kept his proximity. "Lighten up, Dad! My hands are clean!" To emphasize his remark, Bro lifted his palms up in a picture of surrender as Dad fixed him with a sour glare.

"I highly doubt that. And since that is the case, I'd normally request you'd leave the kitchen. But, seeing as this apparently will not happen, I think it'd be best if I were to suggest you were to wash your hands."

"Bu-"

The wooden spoon was brandished threateningly, and the younger man surrendered. 

"Fucking hell, you joke around for a minute and the man gets all defensive..."

Dad nearly let out an indignant gasp, but thankfully Striders weren't the only masters of emotion. How dare that suggest he, an Egbert, couldn't take a joke? Before he could get himself too worked up, however, Bro's grumblings subsided into the steady stream of tap water. Mr. Egbert found himself relaxing back into his work preparing the cakes, finding the familiar comforting routine rather calming.

He worked in silence for some time before he grew aware of a nagging suspicion. With an exasperated sigh, he turned around. 

Bro stood rather aloof by the sink soaked with dish soap up to his forearms. The faucet was left running into the nearly full basin, practically overflowing with a mass of white fluffy bubbles. Poker face carefully in place, he brought his dripping hands up to his lips and blew gently through his fingers. A round, glossy bubble blossomed from his hand and detached itself with a wobble and floated gently through the air until it coasted quietly within a few inches of Dad Egbert's shocked face. It hovered for a moment in the icy glare.

The pop seemingly happened in slow motion, like a horror movie villain drawing the blade across naked skin

"Oh my g- ammph!" 

Globs of frosting and chocolate cake coated the left side of Bro's face. For a moment all he could do was stare in a stupefied trance, slowly dragging his fingers through the buttercream. When the pink layer was scraped from his eyelids Bro cracked a wicked grin at the elder man.

"It's on now, old man." 

There was a flurry of movement as cakes and confectionaries soared through the air. The flashing blade of a katana lashed out and slipped through the soft treats, spraying multicolored frosting across the room. Dad Egbert launched one after another in a fury, his stock of captchalogued cakes nearly infinite. On the other hand, Bro flashed to and fro on the balls of his feet across the treacherous tiles like a master assassin, cutting down the onslaught set to bury him. The cabinets were painted with icing, chunks of cake plastered the walls, and a thick layer of the two coated the floor. 

"That all you got, Egbert? Dave puts up more of a fight!" His taunt was nearly cut short as a four tiered vanilla cake rocketed straight at his chest, but Bro dove aside before it could land. 

"I must admit I'm rather disappointed, Mr. Strider! Your reputation appears to be misleading- I was expecting better." A set of shuriken jammed themselves in a dense almond cake and were tossed lightly aside. Dad sidestepped the slices of Bro's katana with a deft pace, firing small cupcakes at his exposed side in quick succession. 

Bro took the blows and rolled away from the onslaught, yanking open the refrigerator and catching the rest on the now less-than-stainless-steel door. He dove out and flashstepped behind Dad, unloading a card of smuppets over his head and sliding away before a wooden spoon collided with his nose. Strawberry filling sprayed out and caught him in the back before aiming lower to his gloved hand. The sweet filling slicked up his grip on the sword and Bro swapped hands, pivoting to crouch warily in the center of the room. Dad Egbert stood poised to throw a whipped cream pie, his knees bent and ready to spring.

"Oh my god." Just as quickly as it started, the two adversaries dropped their weapons and turned to look at the two startled kids standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Dave, hello, John. I apologize, but it seems that your cake will not be ready for some time yet."


End file.
